


What He Needs

by CollarsAndCurses



Series: The Affairs of Inquisitor Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Blindfolds, Bondage, Bondage kink, Bull thinks about his elf boyfriend, Collars, Crying After Sex, Dom/sub, Dry Orgasm, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, Internal Monologue, Kinky inky, M/M, Minor Subdrop, Most of them are Bull's fault, Multiple Orgasms, Neither of them mind, Nightmares, Ownership Kink, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Silas has many kinks, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sleepy confessions, Subspace, bathing together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-01-31 04:12:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12674169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CollarsAndCurses/pseuds/CollarsAndCurses
Summary: "Sometimes, you wonder what you did to deserve him. Then you stop wondering so that you can give him what he deserves, what he needs, what he wants and begs for."A series of ficlets about The Iron Bull and my male Inquisitor, Silas Lavellan.





	1. Musing Beneath Iron Horns

**Author's Note:**

> Im jumping into a new fandom with the first in a series of self-indulgent ficlets, showcasing my (and my Inquisitor's) love for The Iron Bull.
> 
> Explicit chapters have (E) in their name.

The Inquisitor seemed so different when you first met. You guess he was different - for one, he wasn't the inquisitor, he was “the Herald of Andraste”, nothing more than a myth or a faker to most people. But he still carried himself like a warrior, talking of peace and ending the war against demons like a fighter would cut down foes with their blade.

Now that you think about it, is it really so surprising that you fell for him? The way he cares about everyone and everything, putting himself at the forefront to defend them with spell and speech. Or how he may only reach your shoulder and you can pick him up with one arm, but he fights like a dragon; precise, ruthless, dangerous. He _eats_ like a dragon too, you have no idea how he's so small with the amount of food that man can put away. Either way, watching him lick those delicate fingers of his is one of your guilty pleasures that you hope he never picks up on. It's far more fun when he doesn't know you're watching.

There's a lot of things he does when he thinks nobody's looking. Like sighing in this defeated way that makes his whole body sag, makes you want to find out what's weighing him down and snap the chains clean off. But then there's the way he smirks right before using some quip on whatever asshole he's talking to, as if having to stop himself from laughing at his own words. You like him most when he's smiling, but you'd never turn him away for frowning.

It feels such a privilege to be the one he can share those smiles and frowns with - the true ones, the real ones, not the ones he fakes or only lets through because he thinks they’re socially acceptable. You adore being the one to take off all that armour he builds around himself, heavy like the weight on his shoulders, until he can finally stop hiding, stop worrying, stop being relied on.

You never force him, but he never resists. Sometimes he doesn't even need to say anything, he just gives you that _look_ , like he's about to break and needs someone to catch the pieces so they can be put back together. Sometimes, he looks at you with this primal fire in his eyes, demanding beyond his polite request for your time, telling you what he wants.

It always surprises you how well spoken he is. Not just his fancy (and maybe kind of cute) Elven accent, but how he says things plain and simple - tells you how to tie him as if discussing trade routes, requests a pace like ordering a drink.

Drinking is one thing he's not good at; poor elf has the alcohol tolerance of a pup. A couple of glasses and he'll spout any old shit, giggling and only finishing half his sentences. He doesn't let himself get like that often, though. In fact, you're fairly sure you're the only one who's seen him truly drunk off his pert little ass.

Said ass is currently warming your lap, his legs swaying next to yours as they dangle a few inches above the floor. He takes his job seriously, working day and night on plans and reports, but he always makes time for you to be together - even if that is just by using you as extra padding on his chair.

His pointed ears are never hidden by his hair, and he never tries to make it so, even when certain pricks feel the need to comment on his heritage. You've been close to snapping a few necks for the way they call him a “savage knife-ear” but he just laughs, stays your hand with a gentle touch and says “let me prove them wrong” and boy do they get a shock when he does.

He's filling out a report detailing such proof in his beautiful cursive, humming gently as he works. You'll never get tired of his voice. It's commanding and gentle all at once, makes you believe whatever he's saying. Or not saying, as is often the case between the two of you. He melts so easily under your touch, losing his words to whimpers and moans. You could do it right now, if you so wished, take him right here on the war table. But you respect his decision to work into the night, so you'll reward him later.

You tell him that, lean forwards to whisper the promise in his ear as your hands settle on his waist to enjoy the way he shivers.

“I look forwards to it,” he replies, eyes never leaving the paper, but you can tell there's a smirk on his lips.

You swear he feels just a little warmer under the silk of his jacket after that. Maker, you can't wait to take it off him, feel his velvet skin and count the freckles that mark it. Giving each one a reason why you adore him so would be easy, whispering it as your lips graze his skin; teasing with the promise of more.

Eventually, he sets down his quill and graces your chest with his weight, sighing. He's tired, and you aim to exhaust him until he can do naught but give in to a peaceful sleep.

He protests when you carry him, curled in your arms like a babe, but you quiet him with kisses and sweet murmurs. His cheeks do look lovely with a good dousing of red.

He says he's going to punish you for embarrassing him, so you dare him to try and the hunger in his eyes says he just might. Not tonight, though. Tonight, he welcomes the familiar touch of leather on his wrists, eyes closed and trusting you completely.

Sometimes, you wonder what you did to deserve him. Then you stop wondering so that you can give him what he deserves, what he _needs_ , what he wants and begs for.

The begging used to be your favourite part, but now you think it's afterwards, when he's dozing on your chest, all limp bones and heavy breaths. With you, he's not the inquisitor, not a Herald, not even an elf. He's just a man who deserves the world and has taken your heart in exchange for giving his own. And honestly, you wouldn't have it any other way.


	2. Ride The Bull (E)

“So, listen, I've caught all the hints, I get what you're saying; you want to ride the bull.”

The inquisitor’s heart leapt into his throat. It had been enough of a shock to find Bull in his quarters - _on his bed_ \- but he’d barely had time to recover before the Qunari practically read his mind. He moved one foot back back as Bull stood up, more out of instinct than any real desire to leave. Although, Bull could be about to send his wet dreams crashing into the abyss in a storm of embarrassment, so preparing for a quick exit wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

“Can't say I blame you,” Bull continued, each step he took sending a deeper flush into the inquisitor’s cheeks. “But I'm not sure if you know what you're asking, not sure if you're ready for it.”

This was it, now or never. Inquisitor Lavellan steeled himself, letting a natural smirk curve his lips. “Oh, I'm ready for it.”

Bull almost seemed to frown, but with the whole horn-eyebrows situation, it was difficult to tell. “See, you say that but… you _really_ don't know what that means.”

“So why don't you show me?” The words jumped out before he could even think once, let alone twice. Now that the opportunity was finally presenting itself, Lavellan wasn't about to back down easy.

Within moments, Bull had taken his hands, fingers encompassing both of the Elf’s wrists as he lifted them above his head. Lavellan went pliantly, letting Bull back him up against the wall, pin him there with little more than an impossibly large hand and an even thicker leg. He gasped as Bull’s knee slipped between his thighs, lifting him off the floor without any effort.

“Last chance…” Bull was close enough for the inquisitor to feel the hot breath that accompanied his words. _Oh_ , how he wanted to feel that on the back of his neck, on his chest, thighs, everywhere.

The last of the inquisitor’s confidence failed him, his voice quiet and wavering as he spoke. “Won't you please stay?”

Finally, Bull smiled, his expression oddly gentle in a way that made the Elf’s stomach flip. Then he was hoisted up by his waist, only one of The Bull’s strong, thick arms needed to hold him up, putting them face to face.

“You are not an inquisitor here,” Bull told him, tone low and rumbling, eliciting a shudder. “Nor a Herald, nor a leader. I will use no such titles, so what would you prefer I call you?”

“Silas,” the Inquisitor replied, breathing already halfway to a pant as he rested his hands on Bull’s chest. “You can call me Silas.”

Bull nodded, giving him another of those smiles that turned him to jelly. Very aroused jelly. “Alright, Silas.” Maker, his name had never sounded so wonderful.

“What should I call you?” He asked in return, trying to look at Bull’s face rather than how small his own hands were against the wide muscles of his pecks.

“Oh, don't worry about that,” Bull replied, with a deep chuckle that vibrated against the Elf’s palms. “I aim to make sure you won't be doing much talking.”

Lavellan nodded, his whole body prickling with heat and nerves. He was really going to do this. Or rather, Bull was going to do this _to_ him. Somehow that made it even better.

Seeming pleased, the Qunari carried him to the bed, placing him delicately on the silken sheets. “Take off your shirt and lie back.”

Lavellan did so, perhaps a little too eagerly, but he no longer cared about impressions. On his back, he could feel his heart hammering, beating against the skin that flushed dark across his freckled chest and shoulders, throbbing in his head and, embarrassingly, between his legs. He could hear Bull moving things around, but daren't look, not until that growling voice spoke from his right, and he turned his head to see scarred, grey skin over thickness and muscles.

“Are you ready?”

The Elf looked up, first at Bull’s face, then dropping his gaze to the ropes in his hands. He nodded, but it took a few moments before Bull acted on his answer, giving him time to back out.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he said, pulling his arms back over his head and beginning to fasten his wrists together with the rope. “Tell me to stop, and I'll stop.”

It was a strange sensation, to be tied and bound without the accompanying imprisonment. He was instinctively nervous, having only negative memories of restraint, but there was an undeniable sort of excitement, too.

“Eager, are we?” Bull smirked, finishing the knot as Lavellan looked down and turned scarlet at the tent in his trousers. “Don't worry, I'll tend to that eventually.”

 _Eventually_? Well, now, Lavellan wasn't sure if that made things better or worse.

“Now, let's see how sensitive you are,” The Bull murmured, placing a hand on the Elf’s chest.

That alone made him gasp, but when a rough pad thumbed over his nipple, he couldn't hold back squeak, arching his back off the bed.

Bull snorted. “Good, but I think we can do better.”

The loss of his hand was a disappointment, but when he returned with a length of fabric, Lavellan wasn't complaining.

“Close your eyes, and lift your head.” There was barely any command in his voice, but Lavellan couldn't even think of refusing.

He sighed at Bull’s hands in his hair, so large but so careful as he secured the blindfold. Once finished, his touch drifted down over the Elf’s shoulders, back to his chest. His lithe body twitched with each movement, a shiver running over every inch of him when Bull gave a deep hum of approval.

“This good for you?”

Lavellan gave a soft groan, nodding and pressing himself up into Bull’s firm touch. “Please.” He wanted to feel it everywhere.

More chuckling and humming as Bull explored Lavellan’s chest, stroking his nipples like precious jewels to be admired. Without his vision, everything was, well, _more_ \- more sudden, more intense, just _more_ \- and he loved it. He could hear Bull sigh, feel the slight resistance of his callused hands over Lavellan’s own velvet skin. He still had scars; healed burns, shadows of lightning, imprints of blades. But he had never worn the thick armour that rubbed on a warrior’s skin, leaving him a rich, silken canvas marked by freckles and injuries alike.

When Bull encompassed his waist with both hands, it drew out a needy whimper. Bull felt so much larger when he couldn't see. His mind wandered to parts of Bull that he'd _never_ seen, to the stories of Qunari being frighteningly well endowed, and his cock gave another hard throb.

Those immense hands never left Lavellan’s body, a reassuring connection to soothe his nerves from anxiety to anticipation. Bull's touch wandered over him, looking for every spot that would make the Elf gasp and - to Lavellan’s surprise - moan, not quite searching but just enjoying.

He prayed that they wouldn't hear him beyond these walls. Not that he could stop if his prayers _were_ in vain; each new touch made him louder, more sensitive, until he trembled under Bull’s grasp, biting his quivering lip.

“I think you've earned a little reward,” Bull muttered, a smirk evident in his tone.

He dragged both hands from Lavellan’s collarbones to his hips, drawing out a long moan, the Elf arching his back in wake of the touches like a wave following it's storm. Narrow hips jerked up preemptively, but were ignored, Bull’s hands passing down over Lavellan’s thighs to unbuckle his boots, removing them slowly, first one then the other.

Lavellan whined under his breath, the sound met by a rumbling growl that silenced him immediately.

“Hush, you'll get your prize soon enough.”

The Elf swallowed, doing his best to lay still, even as Bull’s hands slid back up to rest on his thighs. Good gods, he could almost wrap his fingers all the way around. That should _not_ have been arousing as it was.

However, that thought was abruptly overridden when Bull finally cupped Lavellan’s crotch in his hand. The warmth of his touch alone was enough to spark a fire in Lavellan's stomach, legs involuntarily closing around Bull’s arm, crossing at the ankles. Bull teased him further with a light, quick squeeze, saying nothing of the loud moan it drew forth from his plump lips.

He began gently palming Lavellan through his trousers, not quite satisfying but no less pleasurable, until the Elf’s slender legs eventually relaxed, releasing Bull’s arm and exposing himself submissively.

“Do you want more?” Bull asked, hand still caressing his lover.

A series of desperate little nods accompanied Lavellan’s reply. “Yes - oh yes, please, anything, touch me more, _please_.” It would have been embarrasing, but he couldn't think of anything except how much he wanted Bull, _needed_ him.

“Good boy, you beg so well.” Bull's voice was a purr, or a growl, or something that buzzed in Lavellan’s ears and ran down his spine with a shiver.

Unbeknownst to the blissed out Elf, Bull had been working to undo his trousers as he touched him, and he pulled them down sharply and suddenly, just to hear Lavellan gasp as the cold air hit his skin. He took his underthings more slowly, almost painfully so, making sure to touch nothing but the fabric as he fully stripped the Elf of his clothes. It took all of Lavellan’s remaining willpower not to close his legs again.

“Now _that's_ a pretty sight.” Bull’s approval was like the sweetest honey.

Luckily, self-restraint wouldn't be a problem much longer, as Bull’s hands disappeared for a moment before returning with more rope. He tied it loosely around Lavellan’s ankles, then tightly to the bottom posts of the bed, keeping his legs spread, body on display as he shuddered in anticipation. What little body hair he possessed stood on end, most of it on his legs and in a little trail down his stomach.

Bull’s attention returned to his chest once more, his fingers rubbing and kneading until they reached that dark, thin line of hair, following it like a path to the base of Lavellan’s erection. The Elf’s entire body tensed, eyes tightly shut under the blindfold and back curved like the perfect bow.

Another deep moan echoed on the stone walls as Bull wrapped a hand around him, his entire length almost fitting within the Qunari’s palm. He didn't move at first, just held him with occasionally twitching fingers, as if distracted. Then there was the distinctive _chink_ of a vial being opened, and a warm liquid seeped underneath Bull’s hand to cover Levellan's skin. He lifted his hips, groaning at the sensation.

“Tell me if you want to stop.”

At first, Lavellan was confused - why in the fade would he want to stop? Then something warm and thick pressed at his ass cheeks, sending a fresh wave of heat up into his face.

Bull paused, waiting for the Elf to relax before he continued, teasing him lightly with a slick finger before pushing in, just as gently. The foreign sensation produced a sound that even Lavellan had never heard himself make - a chirp-like cry that made Bull stop moving completely.

Aching for more, Lavellan tested himself, pushing down on Bull’s finger with another chirp, nodding to show that it was a good sound, a very good sound; he could definitely get used to having something inside him, pressing in places that sparked a fire all over.

“Am I the only one who's heard that?” Bull asked, beginning a slow pace of thrusting in and out. He didn't wait for an answer - the Elf was clearly too far gone for words. “Such a lovely sound, I feel privileged.”

As if on command, Lavellan chirped again, this time following it up with a sharp gasp when Bull hit this one spot that felt like lightning, hot and white and god fucking fantastic.

“Found your sweet spot, huh?” Bull mused, adding a second finger to the Elf that writhed with pleasure under his touch.

Lavellan forgot all attempts at dignity and secrecy; he cried out, panting, body lifting from the bed as much as he was able, wordlessly begging for more. And more Bull gave, adding a third slick finger and thrusting hard, whilst his other hand squeezed, holding him back from release.

Lavellan’s whole body was like fire and lightning and everything in between. He couldn't think, he couldn't focus on anything except Bull inside him and around him, all he wanted was to reach that peak and let himself crash over the edge. But The Bull held him back, keeping him just teetering, tantalizingly close, until the Elf was practically sobbing, leaving damp patches on the blindfold.

At his cries, Bull slowed his fingers and began stroking him instead, Lavellan needing no more than a few touches before he went quiet and came hard. Everything tensed and relaxed and tensed again in an intense cycle of pleasure, a relief that matched nothing he'd ever felt before. It left him boneless, somehow both numb and entirely too sensitive as he went limp on the bed, the room quiet save for his ragged panting.

He barely even noticed that Bull's touch had left him, until his ankles were released, then his hands, and finally the blindfold. He winced and blinked in the light, trying to talk but managing naught but incoherent mumbles.

“Hush, rest.” Bull's voice had that lovely gentle tone to it, earning a weak smile from the Elf he'd just truly and thoroughly wrecked. Bull smiled back. “There you go, you're alright, just us here.”

Lavellan cleared his throat, senses gradually returning. "What about you?"

Bull just shook his head. "This was for you, to make you feel good - I just got to enjoy the show."

Satisfied with his answer, and too tired to argue otherwise, Lavellan sighed, letting his eyes drift closed again as Bull brushed the hair back from his face. He wiped the exhausted Elf’s stomach clean, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

“You did good, sleep well.’

A blanket was pulled over him, and something placed on the nightstand, but by the time his partner left, Lavellan was well and truly out for the count.

Which was a good thing, otherwise he would have heard Leliana inquiring to his whereabouts and Bull telling her to let him rest, a reply that no doubt gave away more than he would have liked. But no, instead, the only thing in Lavellan’s thoughts, was when he might get to feel like this again - or rather, when _Bull_ would let him feel like this again.


	3. Demons In Your Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha wow it's chapter 3 and I'm already using it to vent what the fuck am I doing

The memory of walking back to The Inquisitor's quarters was hazy at best, so it came as a bit of a surprise to Bull when he awoke in a bed instead of on the floor. He was still mostly clothed, and still not quite sober. The room was dark, moonlight barely making patterns on the floor through the windows.

Then as he was still trying to figure out how they ended up there, Bull heard a sniff and a whimper. He turned as gently as possible, heart sinking a little when he saw his sweet Kadan’s features twisted with pain and sadness. He sighed, reaching out an arm of invitation, only to realise that Lavellan was still asleep, having a dream so awful that pushed past the reaches of his mind.

That damn near broke the Quinari’s heart. This Elf was going to be the death of him. He wrapped Lavellan up in his arms, pulling his small frame against his chest, hoping to somehow reassure him.

“Shhh, it's alright,” he murmured, rubbing soothing circles into his back as more choked sobs forced their way out. “I've got you, Kadan, Bull’s got you.”

Even in his slumber, Lavellan seemed to respond; his cries growing softer, breath evening out. Bull could still feel tears dropping onto his chest, but at least his poor lover had calmed down. Physical things, he could protect him from, but nightmares were like _demons_ \- they got inside your head, messed with your thoughts, and there was nothing anybody could do except watch you suffer.

With another sigh, he pressed a kiss to Lavellan’s forehead, settling down to sleep once again with his Kadan clutched tight in his arms. Maybe feeling someone around him would translate to his dreams somehow, make him feel safer.

Either way, it was only a few minutes at most before a yelp broke the silence. Lavellan sat bolt upright, breath coming in harsh gasps and his shirt damp with sweat. He looked down at his shaking hands and the frost that had suddenly covered them, disbelief in his eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey, easy now,” Bull whispered, sitting up and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, frowning at the way the small Elf trembled under his touch. He wanted to ask what was wrong, make him talk, but Bull knew he was in no state to do so. Questioning him now would only cause undue stress.

Eventually, Lavellan calmed himself, forcing longer breaths as he closed his eyes, leaning into Bull’s hand like an anchor to keep him grounded.

“Sorry,” was the first thing he said, brows knit together with guilt and shame. Crying in his sleep, casting spells over nightmares, disturbing Bull for something that wasn't even _real_. He might as well have wet the bed whilst he was at it.

He tensed at that thought and glanced down, relieved to see his night trousers dry.

“There's no need for sorry, Kadan,” Bull told him, gently cupping his cheek as he wiped the blackened tear streaks from his face. He snorted softly. “You forgot to take your makeup off.”

Lavellan couldn't help smiling at that, even if it did just bring forth more tears for Bull to catch with his thumb. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” The Qunari asked, making only fleeting eye contact so as not to put any pressure on him.

Lavellan shook his head once, then changed his mind. “I... “ Even a single letter make his voice crack, but he sniffed back the tears and continued. “My clan was _slaughtered_ , and I, I could only watch.”

Bull nodded, understanding. “By whom?”

“I don't know, they were just… _dying_. I couldn't move, I couldn't-” he barely swallowed a sob. “I couldn't help them, Bull, I was _useless_.”

Bull frowned at the venom in his tone, aimed at himself of all people. So quick to take the blame, even in fictional situations. He sighed, holding Lavellan’s face with both hands, firm but caring.

“It was just a dream, Kadan, your mind playing tricks on you. I know you would do anything to help those in need.”

“But what if I can't? What if-”

“Then you have no obligations,” Bull interrupted, placing a thumb on his lover’s lips. ”No decent man would blame you for not being able to fly when you lack wings. Having your ability to help taken from you is the same.”

There was clear resentment in Lavellan’s eyes; he knew Bull was right, _technically_ , but it didn't help the feeling that twisted and pulled at his gut.

“How about I send the chargers to check on your clan?” Bull asked softly, moving his thumb to stroke at the Elf’s cheek and allow him to talk. “They don't even need to make themselves known, they can just look and report back.”

“What? No.” Lavellan frowned. “No, I wouldn't want to be a bother over some stupid dream.”

“Then I will send them anyway, because you can never be a bother, Kadan, not to me.”

The Elf knew he wouldn't win this one. He sighed, letting Bull usher him into his embrace. Those thick arms made him feel so safe, so loved and protected.

“You're such a sappy sod,” he mumbled, nuzzling at the Qunari’s wonderfully solid chest, placing a kiss here and there.

“Only for you, Boss,” The Bull chuckled. Then after a moment, he added, “and Krem too, but don't tell him.”

Lavellan actually laughed at that, sighing and finally relaxing as Bull laid back, taking the Elf with him. They didn't need to say anything more. No goodnights or expressions of love. They simply drifted off together, content and safe in each other's company.


	4. Round Two (E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a surprisingly long time and as such I've only read over this final version a couple of times before posting. Thats what I get for being eager. Anyway, hopefully the wait was worth it!

The ache of combat still weighed down the Inquisitor’s limbs; even after a few days of less physically taxing pastimes and a hot bath or two. His mind was just as worn, chasing ideas and plans for the future - to fight the demons, to help people - going over every choice he'd made with an internal debate on if it was the right decision. But, as much as he hated to admit it, the war wasn't the only thing bothering Lavellan.

He knew people were watching as he walked away from the tavern door for the fourth time, only to turn around after a few steps and return to the threshold, arms folded and frowning. He could do this, it wasn't a big deal, he just wanted to talk… To the Qunari who'd been in every dream since the night they had together.

Lavellan had been through near every emotion after his night with The Iron Bull; shock, embarrassment, pride, emptiness, relief. But mostly, a near unbearable desire to go through it all over again.

Deciding that five attempts to enter the tavern were more than enough, the Inquisitor finally stepped over the threshold and made his way to the back of the room, trying to attract the least attention possible. It wasn't as if he and Bull hadn't spoken since then; Bull had accompanied him on pretty much every mission, acting as if nothing had changed between them. Nothing had, he supposed. They weren't _together_. There had been no cuddling afterwards, no waking up in the same bed - they hadn't even kissed for maker’s sake.

“Hey, boss, you need something?”

Bull’s voice quickly snapped Lavellan out of his thoughts. Right. Okay. He could do this.

“I'd like to have a word,” he replied, adding, “in private,” in a far lower tone.

To his relief, Bull nodded, looking serious but not stern. “Alright.”

The Inquisitor's thoughts were running wild during the painfully silent walk to his quarters. He didn't look at Bull, or anyone they passed. Someone would probably think he was to deliver bad news - or expected to receive it. The latter wouldn't be too far from the mark. He wasn't sure what he wanted, but Lavellan knew that his heart would take a hit if Bull denied him.

 _Was_ this even a heart thing? Did he actually like Bull, or did he just like what he did to him? He suddenly regretted his decision to talk about this, cursing his brain when it failed to provide an alternative subject by the time they'd reached Lavellan’s room.

“So, what's going on, Boss?”

Oh thank the Gods - Bull decided to speak first. Lavellan almost breathed a sigh of relief, until he realised that he still had a fair amount of talking to do. Instead, that held breath was used on an answer, voice as even as he could make it.

“We need to talk about what happened between us,” he said, forcing himself to look up.

“Oh, that.” His expression dropped for just a moment, but then his steady gaze was back. It was almost reassuring. “Sure. What's on your mind?”

The inquisitor swallowed thickly, the impulsive answer of ‘ _you_ ’ dancing on his tongue. But he ignored it in exchange for an actual explanation. Bull deserved that much. “Nobody has ever done that to me before, I… I enjoyed it.”

“Of course you did.” Oh, Maker, that little smirk made Lavellan’s knees go weak. “Ben-hassrath training, remember? Grew up learning to manipulate people.”

Bull walked over to the desk and sat on the edge, putting them at eye level. That was also reassuring. Why was a huge, horned man so good at making him feel safe?

“When it's a hostile target, you give them what they want,” Bull continued. “But when it's someone you care about, you give them what they _need_.”

What he needed, huh? Lavellan could feel his cheeks grow warm. He _wanted_ it, regardless of what Bull thought he needed.

“I, uh…” So eloquent. He cleared his throat and tried again. “So, if I agree, how does this work?”

“Outside this room, nothing changes; you’re the Inquisitor, you're the boss. I will never hurt you without your permission, you will always be safe.” Bull spoke clearly, with the type of authority that you'd trust regardless of your nerves. And Lavellan definitely had a few nerves. “If you're ever uncomfortable, if you ever want me to stop, you say “Katoh,” and it's over. No questions asked.”

The Elf cocked his head - a look so close to innocence in spite of everything. “No questions asked?”

“If you didn't trust me, you would have told me to leave.” Bull stood up and- wow did he get taller? And did his voice get deeper? Or was it just Lavellan’s imagination? He hoped he wouldn't need it much longer. “But you didn't.”

Of _course_ he didn't. He may have been taken aback and still dealing with the shattered nerves of leadership, but he wasn't mad.

But, yet again, he couldn't say any of that. All he could do was press his legs together a little and try not to look _completely_ wanton and pathetic. At least… not yet. How could he even _think_ of telling Bull to leave?

In fact, he wasn't quite sure if he could tell Bull anything for a few moments, his voice husky and low when it finally decided to work. “...Take me.”

“Can do.”

Another relieved sigh was thwarted when Bull lifted the Elf up against his chest, hands gripping his rear and drawing out a gasp.

Face to face with Bull again, Lavellan was unable to resist fulfilling his daydreams. He wrapped his arms around Bull’s wide neck as an anchor to pull himself up; put their faces closer, look Bull in the eye and feel his breath, before he pressed their mouths together.

It wasn't demanding like he'd imagined, maybe wanted, himself to be - it was submissive and pleading and almost immediately apologetic. He whimpered when Bull responded, taking charge and pressing the tip of his tongue between his lips. Good gods, even _that_ felt so strong. Lavellan melted in his arms, mouth opening pliantly.

He'd kissed before; stolen pecks on cheeks and drunken embraces behind the stables. But this was something else. _Bull_ was something else. A simple hum of pleasure felt like a growl, rumbling through Lavellan’s body. He sucked on Bull’s tongue until he made that noise again, replying with a moan as he rolled his hips against the Qunari’s stomach, already hard and straining behind his trousers.

Then a hand grabbed his hair, yanking backwards to separate their mouths, leaving the Elf panting. He was pleased to see that Bull wasn't exactly breathing evenly either. The warrior licked his lips, storm grey eye roaming over his lover, as if trying to choose where to start. Lavellan didn't care where he started, as long he was inside him when he finished.

As if reading his mind, Bull smirked, walking over to the bed and dropping the Inquisitor there as he had done before.

“It occurred to me that last time, I offered for you to ride the bull, but didn't _exactly_ deliver-”

“Please,” Lavellan cut him off, all wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

Bull chuckled. “I guess that answers that.”

He took Lavellan’s hands, lifting them over his head and guiding him to lay back. Not that he needed much persuasion.

“Greedy little Elf,” he murmured, kissing him again for not nearly long enough before ceasing contact entirely. “Strip.”

Lavellan did so in record time, eagerly returning to his position once naked, hands together above him and legs spread. He still felt the tinge of embarrassment at putting himself on display, but he knew it would be worth it, knew Bull wouldn't judge him. The fact that when Bull leant over him again, his grey skin was also completely uncovered, helped greatly.

“Good boy.”

He was sure he’d never tire of hearing that.

It was leather instead of rope that bound his hands this time, and lips explored his chest in place of fingers. He hadn't expected Bull to be so… different. Before, it was all about what _he_ felt; Bull didn't even get undressed. But now, there was an intimacy to it, an agreed mutuality, a promise that the physical pleasures would be shared.

Lavellan promptly decided that he preferred this side of Bull, telling him so with a quivering moan as he arched his back. His reward was given in the form of that strong, hot tongue swirling around his nipple, drawing out another unabashed sound of pleasure.

“We're rather vocal tonight,” Bull murmured against his chest. If that hadn't already made him shudder, the dirty chuckle that followed would have done the job nicely. “Did I loosen the lid?"

In any other situation, a quick witted reply would have been the first thing on Lavellan’s tongue, but he couldn't think of one with Bull mouthing at his chest like that, and when he tried to speak all that came out was a whine - not even a “yes” or a “please”. Still, it got the message across just fine.

Bull didn't bother with a blindfold or restraining Lavellan’s legs. After torturing the poor Elf until his flushed chest was heaving with each breath, he reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out a small vial. That brought Lavellan’s senses back for a moment, enough to realise that he did not own that bottle, nor had he noticed it's arrival in his quarters.

“How…?” He frowned at Bull, only just able to question him.

The Qunari laughed, removing the vial's lid. “You should check your drawers more often, who knows what I could hide in there.”

The subtle threat made Lavellan’s heart beat just that little bit harder. He almost _wanted_  Bull to hide things in his room, things that would remind him of this, make him blush just to see.

Although, he doubted his face would ever be as red as when he finally laid eyes on what Bull had been hiding behind his pants. Good Gods, it was huge, almost as long as the Elf’s calf and near half as thick, maybe more. Just the idea of what that would feel like had him moan.

Bull smirked, proud of what he could do to his lover with just his appearance, then slicked two fingers with the contents of the vial. Lavellan was more than ready to have them inside him, welcoming the warmth and stretch as Bull pushed in with the first.

A breathy chirp jumped from his throat, immediately followed by more as Bull added a second finger. He could tell that this was preparation rather than just to pleasure him, the way Bull worked methodically, scissoring his fingers and twisting them, gaze almost hungry. Not that Lavellan spent much time watching him - he mostly had his eyes squeezed shut, head tilted back as he arched off the mattress.

It was a blur of sensations as Bull worked him open, seeming to last hours and minutes simultaneously. When the Qunari finally removed his fingers, Lavellan whined at the emptiness, the cold, legs shaking too much to lift him and ask for more. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long.

“Remember your watchword?” Bull asked, voice unfairly even as he slathered his length with lubricant from the vial.

Lavellan nodded eagerly. He'd probably be embarrassed later, but he didn' care.

“Good.” The bed sagged as Bull knelt on the base. “Don't be afraid to use it; I won't stop forever, just for now.”

He grasped the Elf behind the knees, moving closer between his legs until he could put one hand on the small of his back and lift his ass. Lavellan wrapped his legs around the warrior with ease, back and hips at an angle that most others would probably find uncomfortable. But even if he was, the huge cock rubbing against his stomach would definitely ease matters.

“It's a good thing you're flexible,” Bull mused with a smile.

Lavellan snorted out a chuckle, “This is nothing, I'll show you what I can _really_ do one day.”

“I'd like that,” Bull hummed, momentarily tender as he leant forwards to capture his lover’s lips in a kiss; the kind that made someone feel claimed, like they could kiss no other.

He stayed close after their mouths parted, leaning over his smaller partner and reaching down to angle himself against his ass.

Lavellan’s eyes fluttered closed as Bull pushed in, slowly and more careful than he ever expected - which he was grateful for, because looking hadn't quite prepared him for just how huge Bull would feel. It was so different to his fingers; one thick, hot length that just kept going.

Bull’s pulse beat against his own inside him - he was so full and warm that it made his toes curl, a tremble starting there and working it's way up until he shook all over. He let out a soft groan when his ass cheeks were finally pressed firm against the Qunari’s skin, bottom lip drawn in between his teeth.

It was… Overwhelming, to say the least. But he wasn't going to safeword out - he couldn't - he'd wanted this so much and even with the little pangs of pain it felt so _right_ , just another sensation to ricochet against the intense pleasure.

Thankfully, Bull kept things slow. He drew back halfway and pushed in again; gentle, exploring. Lavellan sighed out a grateful moan, followed by a chirp when the head of Bull’s cock pressed against his sweet spot. He made his thrusts a little harder after that, each one punctuated with those sharp, almost feral, Elven cries and deep Qunari grunts.

Lavellan was soon a panting, sweaty mess, babbling pleas in a mix of his own tongue and the humans’ between other sounds that had no words - all desperate encouragements as he felt himself getting closer to climax. Sparse tears flowed freely without a blindfold to hinder them, painting dark lines down his face, tinted grey by smudged eyeliner.

His skin was so hot that he barely felt any sweat or tears, or the precum that began to smear over his stomach. It was like a bubble around them, firey air that dripped with arousal keeping everything else out, even thoughts. Lavellan whined at a particularly fierce buck of his hips, hands balling into fists and nails leaving half moons in his palm.

Bull abruptly sat back, grabbing the base of his partner’s length as he'd done before, stopping any friction from their stomachs so that the Elf wouldn't finish too soon. Lavellan would have called it cruel teasing, had he the mind to do anything by cry out his pleasure.

"Good boy," Bull told him again. "You want to come for me?"

"Yes! Yes, please!" Lavellan managed in  a screamed whisper, flushed ears almost fluttering in a way Bull had never seen before.

A slight lax in Bull's grip was all it took. The heat coiling tight in his stomach, the shift of skin against skin, the gloriously alien pressure inside of him. It was so much - too much, made his whole body stiffen almost painfully until it gave in to release. He didn't even care when Bull’s pace became relentless, fucking him through the waves of ecstasy, then burying himself to the hilt with a satisfied growl as he came.

Now that was. New. And hot, in a place Lavellan didn't think he'd ever feel it. When Bull pulled out he got to feel it all over again as everything moved inside him. And... out of him. He couldn't decide entirely if he liked it but he definitely wanted it to happen again.

Bull's released his thighs, bruises left where his fingers had been. Not that Lavellan could feel them; he couldn't really feel anything in that moment beyond his own heart beating in his chest and his ears. He took a deep, shuddering breath as his muscles finally relaxed, legs slipping from Bull’s waist and back finally touching down on the bed.

Bull didn't say anything as he got up, unfastened the bonds around Lavellan’s wrists, grabbed a cloth to wipe them both down. When Lavellan opened his eyes, the Qunari paused, a gentle smile on his lips, then carried on his care. Lavellan just watched him, still in a daze and almost half asleep.

That is, until he noticed Bull collecting his clothes and began to panic. He sat up, regretting it when the blood rushed to his head and made him slump to the side, dizzy.

“Stay, please,” he begged hoarsely. “We can go again later.”

Bull shook his head, chuckling and pulling on his pants. “I don't think so. You need rest.”

Lavellan could have cried, a whine getting through despite his best efforts. So pathetic. “But-”

“Don't worry, I'll still stay.” Bull clambered back onto the bed - next to his lover, this time. “I'm just saying that if you want to walk tomorrow, one round is enough.”

Oh gods, why did that make Lavellan so relieved? It was utterly pathetic. He sighed and nodded, letting his body sag against the cushions.

Bull moved closer, pulling him gently against his side and planting soft, yet almost possessive, kisses on any bare skin he could reach. “You, were fantastic,” he murmured, a hand rubbing idly up and down the Elf’s back.

“You too.” Lavellan’s voice was slurred, but his lips quirked into a smile when Bull kissed his forehead.

“Good, I want you to tell me if I'm not, if you don't feel on cloud fucking nine by the time I'm done with you, then I'm not giving you what you need.”

Lavellan hummed, approving. He fell asleep like that, curled naked against the Qunari’s side, being pampered with kisses and soothing touches. He wasn't quite sure, but just before drifting off he could swear Bull’s voice carried the words “we need to work on your stamina.”

Albeit a little insulted, Lavellan couldn't help but agree - he would need a whole _day_ of this once everything was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter; some more fluff and talking whilst they have post-sex sleepy cuddles


	5. Round Two (Part Two) (M)

Lavellan slept soundly for over an hour, dreams full of blades and trees and thick hands around him, mountains and waterfalls and the swell of the ocean like thunder. When he gradually came to, his vision blackened but the noises stayed; a steady beat against his ear, gentle hums, slow breaths like a resting beast.

He remembered where he was and smiled, nuzzling into the thick, grey hide of his beast.

“You awake, boss?”

Lavellan nodded, giving a little hum of confirmation but not opening his eyes or moving. He wanted to stay there forever, lock everyone else out, forget all his responsibilities and just lay with someone in bliss like he'd dreamt of doing when he still lived in the forests.

Bull's thick, rough fingers ran down his spine, then back up into his hair before resting on the back of his neck. He could grab Lavellan so easily, restrain him, choke him. The Elf shuddered at the thought and Bull’s fingers twitched, as if he was thinking the same.

“Are you going to get up and drink, or do I have to scruff you like a dog?” Bull asked, growling the last words into Lavellan’s ear.

Was he truly that easy to read, or did Ben-hassrath training include mind reading?

Lavellan pushed himself up to a sitting position. His bottom half ached and his shoulders were stiff, but it was no worse than the wear and tear of battle. It also served as a reminder of who gave him those tender bruises on his thighs.

“Good boy,” the Qunari purred, adjusting his grip to allow his thumb to trace the slender jaw of his lover.

His hand stayed resting there as he reached for the tankard of water on the nightstand, offering it with a gentle, lop-sided smile as if giving a gift. Anything Bull gave him was a gift in Lavellan’s mind, especially when he was hit with a sudden thirst, grasping the tankard as Bull lifted it to his lips.

“Slowly,” he said, not letting the Elf lift the mug too high. “If you get hiccups I'll have to spank em out of you.”

Lavellan gasped and snorted at the same time, turning away as he began to cough and splutter, adding to the red flush that Bull’s comment had already pulled into his cheeks. It only worsened when Bull laughed, hearty and thunderous as he put the drink down to pat - or rather, thump - Lavellan on the back.

His eyes became clouded with tears, spilling over even after he had finally stopped choking and regained his ability to breathe. Bull wasn't laughing anymore by then, though Lavellan was sure he deserved it. Panicking over a little water in his windpipe. Ridiculous. He saw Bull looking at his hands, the way they shook as he wiped his face, and quickly put them under the duvet over his lap.

Not that it made a difference to the Qunari’s response. “Something you need to tell me?” He asked, gently rubbing his back.

Lavellan sighed, still catching his breath and deciding how exactly to explain. “I can't swim,” he began, immediately regretting it. “I mean, I nearly drowned once, when I was a child. Some of the other children pushed me in a lake, but I couldn't swim and I panicked-” he sighed again. “it's stupid, don't worry.”

“You don't like anything to remind you of that experience, it's understandable,” Bull said, like he actually meant it.

The worst part was that, when Lavellan looked up to meet his gaze, he knew that he _did_ mean it.

“If you were nervous of being tied up we might have a problem,” Bull continued, laughing a little. “But I can avoid water. Wasn't planning to use it anyway.” He shrugged, giving Lavellan’s shoulders a light nudge in the process. “And if you want, but _only_ if you want and _only_ when I think you're ready, I could help you conquer that fear.”

Lavellan chewed his bottom lip in thought - that is, until a thumb pressed against his mouth, encouraging it to open and pushing inside when it did.

“Don't do that,” Bull told him firmly, pushing down on his tongue. “Only I'm allowed to feel your skin between my teeth.”

Oh, that pressure felt… strangely pleasant, and maybe a little arousing, even if he didn't quite understand why. He also didn't understand his desire to close his lips around the digit and suck, but when his reward was a genuine, soft gasp from his lover, Lavellan decided he didn't need an explanation.

Bull smirked, gripping Lavellan’s lower jaw with his fingers and pulling his face closer. “Naughty boy,” he growled, that familiar hunger in his eye as he licked his lips.

Lavellan had thought that he loved being a good boy, but being a _naughty boy_ sent a violent shiver through his body, his hips twitching forwards just that little bit in response.

Then Bull pulled his hand away completely and left the Elf pouting. Actually pouting. He hadn't done that since he was a child. The Iron Bull took down his leaderly facàde so effortlessly, it would be worrying if it didn't feel so fucking liberating.

“Aw, don't give me that face,” Bull chuckled, patting Lavellan’s cheek.

He swatted at Bull’s hand, but it was like a kitten trying to fight off a Mabari. Still, he couldn't hold back a smirk, no matter how strangely he contorted his lips. Eventually he was grinning, soft chuckles under his breath as he pushed Bull’s hand away, only for the Qunari to start patting his other cheek instead. Their silly game continued until Bull grabbed both of Lavellan’s wrists in one hand, like he'd done on their first night together.

Time seemed to stop then, as Bull’s steely gaze passed right into his soul, almost mesmerising. His breaths were slow and deep, interrupted only by a gasp when Bull lifted him, an arm around his waist, and into his lap, but he neither of them looked away.

Lavellan opened his mouth to speak, to ask where exactly this was going to go, how long it would be for. But the words wouldn't form and before he could try again, Bull was kissing him, taking advantage of his open mouth to make him moan with a flick of his tongue.

Suddenly, Lavellan had no idea why he'd wanted to question this. It didn't matter that he had no clue of what time it was, didn't know where his clothes were, couldn't even think of what his advisors should be doing. All that mattered was the person who stopped those worries from taking over.

The Iron Bull kissed slow and deep, every move deliberate to bring his partner pleasure whilst keeping them submissive, letting them know he was in charge. It was perfect. Right then, it was all Lavellan wanted, letting the warmth seep into every part of his body, melting all the tension away.

Bull didn't make a clean break like the last time; his tongue withdrew but he nipped gently at Lavellan’s lip when he whimpered in protest, planting more kisses to his mouth and then in a trail down his neck, before sitting back to look him in the eyes.

“You're the first person to make the choice between kissing you and fucking you a difficult one,” he murmured, moving as if to kiss him again but stopping just short.

Lavellan could only smirk at that, the lilting kind, like that of a happy drunk. Part of him _did_ feel a tad drunk, actually - tipsy on the heat of Bull's skin and the smell of his musk and the sound of his voice - and of course, he was still a little drowsy from the utterly fantastic sex. He had a feeling this was something he could get rather addicted to.

“Why choose?” He said eventually.

Bull laughed. “Ambitious - that's why I like you, boss.”

He wanted to correct him, say that he wasn't the boss here and he wanted Bull to remind him. But the Qunari had said no to another round, and Lavellan knew that he wouldn't be swayed.

“What is this?” He asked instead. “What are we doing?”

Bull released his hands and sat back, putting them at a comfortable distance for serious conversation. Lavellan hadn't really known what sort of reaction to expect - Bull was so difficult to read - but at least he didn't seem angry.

“That's up to you.” He replied simply. “If you want it light and casual, that's fine with me.”

Lavellan tried not to frown; he hated it when people put all the choice on him. He wanted an opinion, dammit! Maybe he needed a different angle. “You told me that this is what I need,” he said, watching Bull's face for the slightest change. “What did you mean by that?”

Unfortunately, he kept infuriatingly stoic, replying with a voice so gentle it made Lavellan feel _guilty_ for wanting to see a reaction. “You're the Inquisitor,” he said. “You didn't ask for the job, but you've taken on the responsibility. You've got thousands of lives riding your decisions. You bear that weight _all day_.” He paused and placed his hands on Lavellan’s knees, squeezing. “You need a place where you can be safe, knowing someone else is in charge for a bit.”

Lavellan nodded. The pressure against his skin was reassuring, reminded him of Bull’s strength and how carefully he chose to use it. “You're right,” he sighed. “I think that's exactly what I need.”

“Good.” Bull's lips quirked with a smile, but the approval carried even more in his voice. It made Lavellan’s heart skip a beat. “I figured youd’ve kicked me out if you disagreed.”

Lavellan gave a light snort. Bull was right, they both had a choice in this. But still… “What about what _you_ need?”

Bull chuckled, “I'm good, I am _better_ than good.” His smile widened with more soft, husky laughter. “You don't need to trouble yourself on that front. Ol' Iron Bull is just fine.”

It was predictably difficult to tell if he was serious, but Lavellan didn't question him more. They were both adults, and Bull didn't exactly take things lying down. He didn't really take _anything_. That thought made Lavellan blush, the pink turning to red when Bull dipped his head to kiss him again.

Wide hands pulled Lavellan close, palms flat against his back and his stomach flat against a thick chest. He couldn't hold back a needy whine, clinging to Bull’s shoulders. He’d momentarily forgotten that he was naked, but now it was hard to ignore. Literally.

But it was okay to _want_ here, it was okay to be needy, okay to cling to someone else, rely on them. Bull made all of those things safe. Lavellan let a soft moan slip out, rocking his hips against Bull’s stomach. The Qunari replied with something between a growl and a sigh, his hands falling to Lavellan’s hips, guiding his movements.

Release crept up on him slowly, a gentle ebb and flow until he gasped, going still as he came and then melting against his lover.

“Doesn't always have to be a big deal,” Bull told him softly. “I'll lead you through whatever you need.”

The Elf nodded, blissful and tired.

“And what you need right now,” Bull continued. “Is a bath. I don't think it would go over too well if I sent you back like this.”

Lavellan made a disgruntled noise. He wanted sleep, not baths. Although he supposed he could sleep _in_ the bath. It would probably depend on if Bull joined him - sleeping through a second of the time he could be enjoying his touch felt like a crime.


	6. Chained But Not Bound (Only By Love) (E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This will eventually be chapter 7 but it's taken me long enough to write this so I'm temporarily going to mess with the order of doing sexy times and then sfw fluff)

Days off were rare at Skyhold; always something to be done, somewhere to go, people to talk to. So much so, that even after declaring everyone - yes, including Cullen - should have a day to themselves, the Inquisitor had no idea how to follow his own orders. Luckily, The Iron Bull was always more than happy to help him relax.

“How does that feel, Si?” Bull’s voice was casual, gentle, as he fastened a collar around the Inquisitor’s neck. It was simple black leather with a gold buckle, nothing that might suggest it had been purchased with a lover in mind. And that's just what Bull had wanted.

“Perfect,” Lavellan sighed, reaching up with bound hands to let his fingers rest on the newest addition to his and Bull’s ‘equipment’. But it wasn't just that - Bull only used his birth name during times like this. First it was Silas and now just Si, proving that he wasn't just a title or a position or a part of the clan. He was just himself and that was perfectly alright.

His breathing sped up just slightly when a golden chain was clipped into place at the back of his neck, cold against his bare skin as it went lax. The change was barely noticeable to anyone not fine tuned to his every reaction. But Bull noticed. Bull always noticed, and Silas had come to crave the attention that came with it.

“Good.” Bull fastened the other end of the chain to a gauntlet on his wrist, before cupping the Elf’s face in his hands. “You are mine,” he told him. “And I am yours.”

Silas nodded - as much as he could with those huge hands either side of his jaw - gazing up at the Qunari as if nothing else mattered. To him, nothing really did, not then. Those words were all he needed.

He'd felt ridiculous when he'd found Bull in the early hours the night before, tired and frustrated and  _ worried _ , worried that he was caring too much, that they wanted two different things and Si would be the one who got hurt when Bull's attention was ‘needed’ elsewhere.

To his surprise - and utter, sickening relief - it took only a few moments to quash his fears. Bull was honest in admitting his time spent with others, even whilst they had been at Haven and now Skyhold, when he knew the Inquisitor pined for him. Si had nodded and tried not to frown, but the droop in his ears and tightness of his lips was painfully obvious. Defeat, a touch of heartbreak, some jealousy.

Then Bull had made him a promise; that whilst Silas needed him, and no matter how long he needed him for, he would have every minute of his attention.

The tension had dropped from Si’s face immediately, and though he would never know what sort of expression took its place, it was enough for Bull to need to prove his commitment the very next day.

“I would never chain you without your permission,” Bull said, voice softer than Silas had ever heard. “This is a symbol of our bond, it will not be used in restraint. But if you wish for it to be removed, just say the word.”

Si nodded again. He hadn't used their watchword so far, and didn't plan to. Then again, this was only their fourth ‘session’ as Si had begun referring to them in his head. He hoped he'd lose count soon.

Bull made quick work of their remaining clothes, leaving them both naked as Si was turned and bent over his bed. His legs were already shaking, most of his weight leaning on his elbows and the mattress. Thank the Gods it was soft, he wanted his only bruises to be deliberate and by Bull’s hand. Or mouth. Or any part of him, really. He glanced over his shoulder, bottom lip caught between his teeth in anticipation. The smirk that his eyes met with did nothing to steady his weak knees.

“Look forward,” Bull told him, and he did so without hesitation.

A calloused hand squeezed his ass in reward, until it drew a soft moan from his lips. Bull hummed, approving but thoughtful, as he rolled the plumpness of one cheek between his fingers, pressing with his palm to spread the Elf open. Another languid sound of pleasure was half-muffled by the duvet. Even when he was laid bare, at Bull’s mercy, Silas found it so easy to relax under his touch, give in to what he needed.

His thighs tensed when Bull grabbed him behind the knees, but he didn't resist as his back end was lifted onto the bed, knees tucked under him and chest against the mattress, ass in the air. It was almost exciting to have Bull arranging him however he wanted, however pleased him.

“ _ There _ ,” Bull purred. “Perfect.”

That word. _Perfect_. It was all Si wanted to hear, made him shiver, fighting not to rock his hips back and ask - _beg_ - for more as Bull's hand followed the curve of his back.

“You still want this?” The Qunari asked, rubbing circles into the Elf’s tense shoulders with his thumb.

“Yes, please,” Silas replied with a sigh, giving Bull the calm, serious answer he knew he was looking for. It was the last check, his last chance to back out without using the safeword, and Bull wouldn't take anything less than a lucid response. But said response was all he needed.

“I'm going to wreck you,” Bull told him. “I'm going to fuck you so hard you can't walk, can't even think, can't stop me leaving after no matter how much you want to.” He leant forwards to nuzzle at Si’s neck when the Elf whimpered. “Then,” he continued softly, lips barely kissing the freckled skin beneath him. “I'm going to stay and take care of you, because you need it. Because I _ want to. _ ”

Another shiver ran down Si’s spine at The Bull’s rough voice in his ear. He let his eyes fall closed, head resting on his arms as the other man’s touch slid back down to his hips.

The drawer opening, the pop of a cork, the subtle yet definitive  _ spat _ of slick oil between fingers. Each noise made his heart beat faster, harder, anticipation flooding every nerve. He only just resisted glancing over his shoulder, leaving him to gasp at the sudden press of a finger between his ass cheeks. Bull was practiced in loosening him up by now, easing past the tight muscles until pleasure relaxed them.

“Think you can come for me more than once?” He asked, entirely too casual as he aimed the next prod at the Elf’s prostate.

Si gasped again, clenched his fists in the blankets, then moaned. “ _ Please _ .” He didn't just think it, he  _ wanted _ it.

Bull added a second finger to rub at the spot that made his thighs tremble, letting him whine some more before he spoke. “Good boy.”

It should be criminal how much he loved that phrase, how it made him whine and chirp like a wild animal in heat, just from two simple words. Well, the fingers inside him contributed somewhat, with their relentless circling like a storm that built up lightning to pool in his groin and strike at his spine. Somehow, even when they changed to scissoring and stretching, it still felt so fucking good - the anticipation of knowing what would happen after bringing its own kind of arousal.

A shiver wracked his body when the two fingers were removed, leaving him empty and wanting, only for three to be plunged back in and make him cry out as they immediately honed in on his sweet spot.

“That's it,” Bull mumbled, encouraging his lover’s voice with a rough twist of his wrist. “Be as loud as you want. Tell me how good it feels.”

Si’s face was buried in the duvet by this point, anything more than sounds lost to the thick blanket. He lifted his head enough to slur “ _ fucksogood, _ ” as if it were all one word, before letting it drop again and giving in to another loud moan.

It didn't take much to bring on his first orgasm; a little praise and some fingering and he was done, hips stuttering and pushing back against Bull’s fingers, squeezing around them as he shot lines of white onto the duvet underneath him. He didn't even have the senses left to complain about the mess afterwards. It was all he could do to keep breathing as Bull returned to his gentle stretching, not giving the Elf a moment’s break.

“Good boy,” he told him again, slowing down when Si made a little noise of discomfort. “You're almost ready.”

Silas knew what that meant and it sent a fire through him. Bull hadn't taken this much time to prepare him before… Clearly he was serious about the not walking or thinking thing. Not that Si had expected - or hoped for - anything less. He wanted Bull inside him so very badly, filling him to the brim and then some. It was enough to bring back a spark of arousal, his dick twitching in spite of still being mostly soft between his legs.

He felt the bed move under him as Bull lifted one knee up next to his. He leant over his back, removing his fingers but letting his already lubricated cock sit teasingly against Si’s ass, ready to take their place. His breath was on Si’s neck, making his hair stand on end. Then it was against his ear, hot and damp like Bull’s chest against his sweat-sheened back, so close that the chain connecting them lay coiled on the duvet, forgotten and unneeded.

“Ready?”

Si’s head was full of “ _ Yes, yes, yes! _ ” but he could only nod furiously and whimper.

Then Bull’s mouth was on the tip of his ear and his head wasn't full of anything except hazy pleasure. Each scrape of his teeth made him shudder, each pass of his tongue had him biting his lip, and when Bull sucked on the pointed tip, Silas feared he might pass out; eyelids fluttering as he felt his muscles relax of their own accord.

He had a sudden urge to get his own mouth on Bull’s ears, lick each scar on his body, kiss and bite all over him, take him as deep as he could in his mouth and make him come all over his chest. Silas never thought he would want to be plastered in cum until he met Bull. The same could be said for a lot of things, actually. Like wanting to feel well and truly broken open, emotionally and physically. Bull was good at breaking all manner of things, but he could so it so very gently that you barely even felt it.

“I wouldn't lie to you,” Bull murmured as he pushed just the head of his dick between Si’s asscheeks. “I don't lie for fun. I do it because I have to,” he continued, giving a shallow thrust to push past the first ring of muscles. “But we don't have to lie, not to each other.”

Silas could barely hear him over his own heartbeat, thrumming in his ears and all over his body, but the honesty in his voice made his chest fill with warmth, lulling him into complete submission, complete trust. He could probably fall asleep - if he wasn't already beginning to get hard again, that is. But even then, he could only tell because of the harsh pulsing between his legs, any sort of need distant and faint.

Then Bull pushed in hard and steady all the way down to the hilt, bringing Silas abruptly back to his senses. Suddenly everything was crystal clear; he could feel every inch of the Qunari inside him, those strong arms now wrapped around his torso and their owner mouthing at the back of his neck. He felt claimed,  _ mounted _ , and it was so wonderful, so very primal that every part of him - mind and body - said it felt  _ right _ ; screamed It, even.

Bull nuzzled at the nape of his neck, jostling the collar he'd almost forgotten, reassuring him and sending him back into that blissful calm as he adjusted. He held him still on quaking legs, kept him as tight to his own body as possible, even when he began a rhythm of pulling almost completely out before sliding back in, pressing the Elf’s upper half into the mattress. Silas moaned each time, both loving and loathing the delicious torture of a pace that was somehow both slow and rough.

He lost himself to it, gave in so that he didn't have to think. He could just feel; the gentle ebb of pleasure building with each solid thrust inside him, the spark when Bull’s hand would snake down to stroke his dick or squeeze his balls, how he was only half-hard but his pre-cum dripped freely from onto the already ruined sheets.

How Bull remained so controlled was beyond him, even in his more lucid thoughts, but he was so grateful for it. It had taken a while, for him to realise how Bull was giving him what he needed - beyond the obvious loss of power - but now he could see it,  _ feel _ it, being forced to take things slow, to live in the moment.

The moment itself seemed to stretch on forever, a wonderful forever that barely felt real. A rush of cold air ran over his front when Bull abruptly sat back, pulling Si up so that only his knees and bound hands were under him. Luckily, he didn't have to rely on them for support, with The Bull still holding his trembling body tightly, as if he were precious, never to be taken away. It was so good to feel like that - actually  _ feel _ it, not just be told that he was important because of his mark or his magic.

“Good boy, I got you,” Bull growled to him, moving faster, not pulling out as far as he bounced Silas in his lap. “You like it, don't you? You like being held down and  _ fucked _ .”

He wasn't one to give dirty talk during sex, in fact he could rarely talk at all, but  _ getting _ it was another matter. Si nodded and mumbled incoherently, the sounds soon turning to loud moans and chirps- so close, so close, just a little more-

When he came a second time, it was like a deep pull in his gut, clenching his lower half tight before the euphoria overflowed. It dragged his magic out with it, the lightning up his spine ending in his fingers, crackling as they gripped at the sheets. It felt so fucking good, he didn't even worry about losing control - he  _ wanted _ to lose control, wanted to let go.

“That's it,” Bull encouraged, not slowing his pace for a moment. “Let it all go.”

Each thrust after that blurred the line between pain and pleasure, the physical stimulation too much but the emotion, the feeling, the warmth in his chest- His burning cheeks became wet with softly falling tears, each one mirrored by a gentle pulse of magic to light up his palms. His whole body was in a rhythm, with itself and with Bull. He'd never felt this close to someone, so utterly in tune with their body.

Still, it was unexpected when The Bull hilted himself deep and stopped there, filling Silas with his spend, somehow hot even with the intense furnace of arousal inside him. Si arched his back, muscles tensing and hips bucking, milking his partner until a final climax of his own ripped through him. Instead of cum, he made magic, his whole body twitching and sparking.

When everything was finally calm and still, a wave of exhaustion that no battle could compare to overtook him. His chest heaved under Bull’s hands, the sweat coating both of their bodies cooling as Bull breathed deeply against Si’s back and neck. The sheets slipped from his grasp, black scorch marks left in the shape of his hands. He could barely keep his eyes open long enough to assess the damage beyond “ _ this whole thing needs burning _ ”.

Bull recovered unfairly quickly, but Si couldn't complain. He let himself be lifted, whining softly at the emptiness when Bull slipped out of him.

“Shh, I've got you.” His voice was far gentler than before, a deep rumble but not a growl, more like a purr. “You did so good.”

The praise made Silas feel all warm and fuzzy inside, no longer aroused but just loved. Bull pulled him against his chest, wiping him over with a towel like some delicate thing.

He murmured “Good boy,” into his hair as he untied his hands, rubbing gently over the bruised skin of his wrists. But when he reached for the collar, Silas tapped his arm weakly and shook his head.

“Yours,” he whispered, burying his face in Bull’s chest. He wanted to stay connected, he didn't want to go back to being the boss, not yet, just a little longer.

“Alright, then,” Bull sighed, moving his hand up to pet Si’s hair instead.

The Elf practically purred, tipping his head into Bull’s touch and clinging to him. He felt so  _ safe _ . He felt… owned. He knew it was wrong to crave that - slaves were owned, collared, used. But this was different. He wasn't a slave, he was loved and cherished. Bull did this because Si liked it, because it made him feel good. He didn't have the energy to argue morals with himself anymore, not quite falling asleep but getting close enough.

He was picked up and carried, then set on Bull’s lap again as water ran in the background. Sometime between then and being picked up again, he knew he must have fallen asleep properly, because what felt like a few minutes wasn't enough time to fill an entire bath. The water was warm, soothing, but it didn't feel right until Bull slid in behind him.

“Need to make sure you don't fall asleep again,” He said, turning Si around in his arms and forcing him to look up. “Water went cold last time.”

Si let out a soft snort at the memory. He hadn't meant to doze off, but since it ended with Bull washing him, he wasn't going to complain.

“Turn around.” Bull reached for the soap, lathering it in his hands. “And tell me if anywhere hurts.”

His touch was more like a massage than a wash. He rubbed at the aching muscles in Si’s neck and shoulders, all the way down his back, his arms and thighs. Silas encouraged him with short moans and other little noises, leaning into the pressure. It was a full-body workover that ended in a head massage that almost had him drifting off again.

Bull planted a hand firmly on the crown of his head. “Hold your breath.”

Silas did as asked, leaning back to let Bull dunk him under and wash off the suds. Although he'd been expecting it, the warm water on his face and then cooler air was enough to wake him up a little. He blinked, then turned to Bull and smiled.

The Bull chuckled, grabbing a dry cloth to wipe Si’s face. “You really need to stop putting that shit ‘round your eyes before we have sex.”

Silas looked at the black marks on the cloth and frowned. “It makes me look pretty,” he replied, his intended indignancy lost to the hoarseness in his voice.

Bull raised an eyebrow. “So does this,” he said, hooking a finger under Si’s collar and giving it a little tug.

Si didn't have an argument to that. He just looked up at Bull longingly until he was finally rewarded with another pull on the collar and a long, deep kiss. His mouth was open and waiting for Bull’s tongue as soon as the Qunari’s lips parted, and he returned the favour by encouraging Si’s tongue to slide alongside his own. Sex was wonderful, but Silas adored kissing. No talking, just little noises and touches, eyes closed, trying to keep breathing so it doesn't have to end.

Even when it did end, with gasps and puffy, red lips, it wasn't entirely that bad. It just meant they could do it again. And again, and again. Until the water turned cold and Silas was wrapped in a towel, Bull ushering him to bed like a fussy mother hen and staying with him whilst he slept, held tightly in his lover’s arms and listening to his heartbeat.

“Ma vhenan,” he murmured, barely awake. He wouldn't remember what he'd said when he woke up, and Bull wouldn't mention it until he said it again, but it was true as could be. After all, they didn't lie to each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed and i would most appreciate a kudos/comment/bookmark if that is the case!


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